II
by Nevah
Summary: A twilight phone call, a grocery store, and an antagonistic Krycek. Mulder/Krycek slash. A second follow-up to "It's Been Awhile."


Part three in the "Awhile" series; however, the reading of parts one and two is not necessarily needed. It's more like a second part two than a part three. The connection between the pieces is very loose to say the least, and I think (well, I hope) this one is pretty fun on its own.  
  
Anyway, this details another of the encouters from "Awhile." A late-night phone call, to be specific. :) Warnings for language and *very* mild mentions of bondage and kink, but amazingly there is almost no angst. Crazy, huh? Oh yeah, and there's the whole slash warning, too. There's quite a bit of it. Be warned.  
  
Blah blah, disclaimer disclaimer, I don't own anything. Really, I don't.  
  
~*~  
  
The phone rings about ten times before he finally picks up. Working for the FBI, you'd think he would be more used to late-night calls.  
  
"What."  
  
I grin into the phone. He's so cute when he's surly. "Asleep already?"  
  
A pause, careful. Hearing my voice catches him by surprise. Then: "Fuck."  
  
I want to laugh, but I manage to swallow it. He's probably already wound up enough. "Patience, Fox, patience. That will come soon." Okay, so I have to throw a little something in there after all. I'm sure he's expecting it, anyway.  
  
"Christ, Alex. It's two o'clock in the morning."  
  
"Are you saying you don't want me to come?" I push my voice at the edges so that I sound wounded and pitiful.  
  
He doesn't respond, and I can just *see* the trademark Look of Deep Thought stretching across his face. I smile again. He has to consider that one for a minute. Well, we can't have that, now can we?  
  
"So tell me, Mulder. Whipped cream or hot sauce?" Best to throw a curve ball here. He needs a distraction.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
I sigh dramatically. "I do believe I spoke English, lover-boy."  
  
"W-what about whipped cream or hot sauce?" He falters, and I know it's because of the nickname. He's not quite used to being *somebody's* yet. Being owned.  
  
"Which would you like?"  
  
"What do you *mean*, which would I like? That is just about the stupidest question anyone has ever asked me. Let alone the stupidest question anyone has *called in the middle of the night* to ask me." He was still a little foggy from sleep before, but he's wide awake now and arrogant as hell. Well, not for long.  
  
"Which would you like to suck off my cock, of course." I've been planning that line for about ten minutes, and it takes everything I have not to dance around at how good it feels in my mouth.  
  
His silence is impressively complete. He's trying to decide whether he's more shocked or aroused by the whole thing, and I'm just hedging my bets that the hand will play in my favor. Not likely that he'll react badly, but you never know.  
  
I continue after a minute, going for broke. "And which would you like me to lick off that perfect ass of yours, right before I fuck it raw?"  
  
He's so easy. I can tell just what he's thinking, even though the quality of his silence hasn't changed. I know what he's going to say before he says it, it comes as no surprise, but I'm still amused as hell to hear it. "You're sick, Krycek."  
  
"Oh am I?" I'm working really hard not to laugh, biting my lip until I think it might bleed. He likes to play it like this, like *I'm* the deviant one here. Can we say 'denial'?   
  
"Abundantly."  
  
You set 'em up lover, and I'll knock 'em down. "Mm-hm. I'm a raging pervert, and you're not at *all* turned on by this." Ri-ight. And Hell will be freezing over any day now.  
  
"That's pretty much it, yeah." His voice is even and cool, but it's a forced calm. Sometimes I think he's just teasing me, just going along with my delusions of grandeur, but these little episodes always provide proof to the contrary. I've hardly said anything, and he's already got his boxers in a knot.  
  
"Well, if you're not turned on, Foxy, I guess I'm going to have to try harder." I practically purr into the phone, my voice heavy with sex. It's great.  
  
"Dammit Alex, that wasn't a challenge."  
  
Of course it was. Silly boy, he thinks he's so sneaky. All that psychology training has made him think his mind-fucks are imperceptible. Yeah, right.  
  
Needless to say, I ignore him. "Hmm, where to start. Hey, you know what, Mulder? Fetishes are even more fun in pairs. I have some good nylon rope in my trunk, and your headboard is perfect, with those knobs on the corners... my god, the things I could do to you with your hands out of the way..."  
  
Silence. A very *loud* silence.  
  
Almost... just a little further...  
  
"I mean, just imagine it... imagine where I could put my *mouth*, without those hands distracting me..."  
  
The choked little gasp he makes is quiet, but I catch it. Bingo.  
  
"So, pushing any buttons yet?" I moan softly, because it's either that or laugh. This is just too ridiculous for words, but it's what he needs. He can't just *give* the control, oh *heavens* no. I have to fight for it a little.   
  
"No? Well, I know of a few fun things we could do with a cock ring and a whip, but it could take some time to get that stuff togeth--"  
  
//"Cashier to the front please, cashier to the front."// The overhead speakers blare with a squeaky teenager's voice, and I glare ineffectually at the ceiling. Jesus, way to ruin the mood.  
  
I know he hears it, there's no way he couldn't, and I'd wager my Glock that he's going to ask--  
  
"Alex, where are you?"  
  
I smirk at the tone in his voice. Cautious, but terribly intrigued. He knows exactly where I am, of course. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't. He feigns so much to dislike surprises, after all. The kinky bastard just wants to hear me say it, he likes the idea that someone else might have heard the conversation, and I can't stop the hungry growl from escaping my throat at the realization. It's moments like these when I know tightly I have him, how deep he's let himself get. God, it's delicious.  
  
"In town, naturally."  
  
"Fuck you, that's not what I meant."  
  
"Fuck *me*? Oh no, Fox, fuck *you*. Fuck you long and hard, and in about twenty minutes if you'll get your shit together and pick a condiment so I can get out of here." A young girl who has started stocking shelves nearby hears me, dropping a can of soup in surprise. I retrieve it for her, smiling. I'm on a roll tonight.   
  
In my ear, I hear him breathing. This is asking a lot of him, I know. Not just submission, but *active* submission. Wanting it. Liking it. Accepting it. "Well?"  
  
He releases a low breath. I really wish I could see his face right now, all the emotions there. It must be absolutely breathtaking.   
  
Finally he answers, just when I'm starting to think maybe he won't, and he doesn't sound even a little angry or apprehensive. In fact, I'd say the gravely rumble in his voice is downright lusty. "Bring both."  
  
I run my tongue along the edge of my teeth, grinning. Oh, but it's going to be a fun night. "With pleasure."  
  
"And Alex?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't forget the rope."  
  
I move to hang up, chuckling. "See you soon, pretty-boy." Yes, a very fun night indeed.  
  
~*~  
  
  



End file.
